


Potential

by bladeron123



Series: Dawn is a slayer. [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1883691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladeron123/pseuds/bladeron123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being saved by Buffy shortly after the death of their mother Dawn awakens with the powers of a slayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Please give me feedback. biggest thing i want to know, is how you want The Gift to be handled, I also would like to know what you think of the story, also, tell me where you want this to go. I would like to incorporate things you want into my story.

Potential

 

Chapter 1

Spark

 

                Dawn Summers was running for her life. She could not fully remember when the vampires had discovered her, she just knew that they had, and so she ran. She did not know how many were following her, but judging by the loud growling, she guessed about five. She regretted bot listening to Buffy, she knew demons were dangerous, yet, purely out of spite she had followed Buffy anyway. Now it seemed her stupid decisions had, once again led her right into the hands of danger. She spared a look as she turned onto another side street, trying to remember the way she’d came, five vampires two male, three female, were about 300 feet behind her. She turned her gaze back to the road and continued running. She heard the voice from behind her, one word, her name.  She stalled, and in that moment death fell upon her.

                A hand touched her shoulder, a grasp, and then the hand pushed her, out of the way. She hit the ground hard, her right leg and shoulder were scraped. She did not feel the pain; instead every ounce of her attention was focused on the blonde, her sister, Buffy.  She felt enormous relief, she was safe, she watched as buffy fought, almost danced through the group of vampires, nobody had an advantage, until buffy dodged the kick of one of the males and drove the jagged piece of wood into his heart, dust. One of the vampires took advantage of the moment to swing a pocket knife at the slayer, Dawn winced as Buffy turned and blocked the strike with her hand, the vampire, not expecting this, was stunned, giving Buffy an opportunity to stake him. The fight continued, the only changes being Buffy’s increased awareness and the cut that ran across one of her palms. Another series of punches, kicks, and careful dodging allowed Buffy to stake two more, leaving her face to face with the last, by then Dawn felt the slight pain in her leg and shoulder. Her attention diverted caused her to miss the last staking.

                “Dawn, are you ok.” the voice pulled her attention back. Buffy put her wounded hand on Dawn’s shoulder. A spark, unseen to both lit up the dark dimly.

                “What, I’m not grounded.” Dawn asked smiling.

                “Oh, you’re so grounded,” Buffy said.

                Dawn’s smile faded.

                “It’s just, you know, with mom gone, I felt it would be tactless not to ask if—“

                “It’s ok Buffy,” dawn said “I understand.”

                Buffy moved her hand and examined Dawn’s wounds. “Dawn. What were you thinking?” she said. “You could have gotten killed.”

                Dawn looked up at her sister. “I, I don’t know really, I just wanted to be with you.”

                Buffy gave Dawn a scolding look. “But you know how dangerous it is at night, with, you know, the vampires, and, well, Glory”

                Dawn rolled her eyes. “it would be dangerous if you would, you know, train me”

                “Dawn if Glory were to see—“ Dawn interrupted her.

                “Screw Glory, you’re the only family I’ve got, buffy, don’t shut me out”

                Buffy looked at Dawn with concern. “I won’t shut you out” her voice was slightly angry. “you’re my sister, now let’s go home.”

                “You promise?”

                “Promise what?”

                “To not shut me out”

                “Of course”

                The two sisters started walking home, the path remembered now.

                “Buffy?” Dawn broke the silence.

                The older sister looked at the younger. “What?”

                Dawn smiled “Will you please train me; I promise I won’t run away again”

                Buffy smiled and thought how hard the last weeks must have been on Dawn, and about how Dawn would probably run away again next week. “I’ll think about it”

 

…

 

                Dawn fell asleep quickly. Unaware of that spark, unaware of the power it held. And in her mind she was running in a black void, from what she did not know, she just knew she was running, running for her life. How did she get here, why was she running, she struggled to remember, then it came upon her, Glory. The darkness began to dissipate, and it surrounded her, written one walls, spoken on the air, that phrase. Death is your gift. Darkness followed by light, and her mother was shouting again, yelling, driven mad by the tumor on her brain. Darkness followed by light, monks siting in a circle preparing her for the flesh, to hide her from Glory, from the beast. Darkness, light, and three men sat prepared, summoning, the dark spirit, the shadow. And then it spoke the dark, its root, the oldest thing, older than life and death, older then the earth itself. “There are worse things you can unlock.”

                Silence, and then it began again.

                Her sister standing poised to jump, that phrase: death is your gift. And then she was gone, pulled away the light below closed. And she dawn was alone, left in the dark, left in the harsh reality of life. And once more she fell into the darkness, and then she saw the face of all, the dark its self, the root of all evil. And she was running, once again for her life, again wondering why she was running.

 

...

 

                The voice pulled her back to reality, her sister’s voice calling her name, Dawn. She awoke terrified.

                “Dawn, are you ok?” Buffy’s voice had a tone of fear.

                Dawn struggled to reply, was she ok, how could she be ok, the dreams still fresh she replied, with a simple no, but her voice did not pierce the air. She felt strange, like a dormant power had awaked, she looked with new eyes and had a new understanding. Her voice would not work because she had come face to face with evil. Not the evil her sister faced, but true evil, the evil which the monsters themselves feared, her voice would not work because her mind, had not recovered from seeing that darkness.  She shook her head, she watched buffy leave, and then she thought. It made sense, it all did. She was the key, mystical energy given human from, made from the flesh of a slayer. She understood that she could open the portal that buffy would die to close; She knew she could open things worse than that as well. And yet she was also descended from them, the shadow men, they gave the power to the one, that gave the power to her sister, and now they gave it to her, though she could not speak she knew her true identity, she was the slayer.


	2. The Shadow

Chapter 2

 

The shadow

 

                They were older than time itself servants to, it, evil. They were the ones who forged the earth, who created day and night, they created life; they created the old ones. Then they came, the shadow men and humanity and everything changed, the shadow men imprisoned them one by one, using a mixture of holy and unholy magic’s to imprison them, in alternate dimensions, until one remained. The strongest, name unknown he challenged the shadow men, and they created her, the warrior of the people, the slayer. The last slowly fell, the war lost, he, following the orders of the root, created it, the gateway, the hellmouth. And now they returned one by one, they were eternal, the warriors of the dark, of the root, they were: The Wolf, The Ram, and The Hart.

………………

 

                Quinten Travers had a nice life, it may not be the most enjoyable, but it was still nice. He had a stable job, which helped him escape from reality; he had a nice place, large multiple rooms with authentic art. He was not married, so he had nothing to take his mind off the things, the many things, which he thought about. He currently was reading, no, researching something by request of newly reinstated watcher, Rupert Giles. Night had fallen sometime before, but the head of the watchers council had not noticed, he was investigating something, that had never happened before, at least in his lifetime. There was trouble on the hellmouth, an extreme misunderstood statement; the correct phrase was that, there was more trouble on the hellmouth then usual. He could not wrap his head around it, a slayer, born from the blood of the slayer, it gave him a headache. He put the old tome down on a small nightstand in his sitting room, he was stressed, there was no other word for it, what with Glory, and now this, who wouldn’t be stressed. He relaxed, slouching slightly, into the red velvet cushions of the armchair. He looked worn, his skin, paler than usual, in the light cast from the light bulb above him. He contemplated sleep, and in that moment, the second he let his mind stray, the knife entered his chest, blood poured from the wound staining his shirt, and darkening the cushions, it slid onto the floor and pooled around the four posts of the chair. The dark mist took form and grabbed the book from the night stand, before vanishing into nothingness.

………………

 

                The Summers household, was a small two story house in one of the less demon infested neighborhoods, if such a place existed, in Sunnydale. The rooms of the house were, relatively small, though it did have a large living room, and dining room. The family who lived there, the Summers sisters, had their lives torn apart by the death of their mother, and now, more recently, by Dawns activation as a slayer. Dawn had got the message across when she kicked her sister through a wall, she was trying to escape. Now dawn sat on the couch in the living room, staring at her sister and Giles, who sat waiting, expectantly, for another violent outburst.   Dawn had tried multiple times to speak, but despite her efforts her vocal cords refused to make a sound. She tried again, and at the exact time a knife entered Quinten Travers chest her voice seemed to overcome the fear, and she spoke.

                “Buffy—“ She stopped, she was looking at the shadow, rising behind the old watcher, she watched the blood, seep from the wound and stain the shirt, and polished wood floor.

                “Dawn” her sisters voice, as she watched the shadow dissipate.

                “Buffy,” She said fear sounding in her voice, she saw the shadow, a circle, and them, seven men, cloaked in black. “it’s coming”

                Buffy gave her a concerned look. “Dawn what’s coming”

                An answer was not needed, the moment the words left Buffy’s mouth, the three people in the Summers household were shoved by an invisible force, through the living room window, onto the dark yard of 1630 Revello Drive.

 

………………

 

                The group of cloaked men stood in a circle, their faces glowing in the light spread by the flickering candles in their hands. Each of them whispered quietly, words of an ancient language. They wore black, a custom held by their leaders, whom had long science vanished from the world, banished, forced away by them, the shadow men, and the race of humanity. The desert in which they stood was empty, silent, a monument to evil. The candles, of varying colors represented the three main braches of their power. Blue, was the symbol of intelligence, and it stood for Los Angeles, the wolf, the leader of the three; Red, power, represented New York,  the ram, the soldiers of the three; and Black, abundance, represented Rome, the oldest of the three. The group waited expectantly for their leader to speak.

                “Has it begun” the voice sounded.

                The men quieted. “Yes, the blood rite has occurred” They spoke in unison.

                “Good”

                “And Travers?”

                “Taken care of”

                “Shall we”

                “Indeed, begin the ritual; I will check your progress frequently”

                The group sat in a circle and began to chant, in unison, that same unknown language. The sand around them swirled, spinning upward, forming a barrier between them, and the world.

 


	3. Storm

Chapter 4

 

Storm

 

                The Magic Box was an average sized shop in the downtown portion of Sunnydale. It was a construct, a gateway, so to speak, between reality and its opposite, the forces of magic, and it was that balance which caused the forces of darkness to converge on that spot frequently. The shop, was, as the name suggested, a magic shop, one of the best in southern California, if one did not count Los Angeles.

The shop had a list of owners, each of which had a tendency of dying brutal deaths, the last of the fatal owners, Mr. Bogarty, was killed by a gang of vampires, shortly after the shop came into the possession of Rupert Giles, who was also attacked in the shop shortly after its reopening. It seemed that, as a spot of convergence; the shop was cursed. And it was to this cursed shop that the party of three came to after being expelled from 1630 Revello Drive.

 

…

 

                The group of men stood and began to walk in a counterclockwise circle; black thorns spreading, one for each person of the group, at respective intervals. The dust barrier responded by spinning; the group rose from the ground, and the circle of black thorns rose with them.

 

…

 

                Buffy Summers was momentarily blinded when the lights flashed on. “What was that?” she said as she approached her sister, who had returned to silence.

                Dawn looked up at her with a blank face; then returned to looking at the table. Buffy turned away and walked to Giles who was behind the counter examining a large tattered book. “Anything” she said desperately.

                The older man looked up from the book. “Not yet.” he said placing the book on the counter. He took a step closer to the blonde, as if to comfort her, she turned away.

                “Xander and Willow?” she asked.

                Giles returned to the book. “on their way” he stated.

                “ok.” She said plainly turning and walking to dawn. She took a seat next to the brunette. “Dawn, are you ok?” she asked running her fingers through her sister’s hair. No Response.

 

…

 

                The men changed directions; the barrier followed gathering momentum. The thorns increased in length, spreading to the brink of the horizon. They changed direction once more; the thorns spun, shrinking with the speed of the twister. The men vanished.

 

…

 

                 Willow Rosenburg was tired when the phone rang. Tired from all the stress glory had imposed on them, a stress that had increased in great force over the last few weeks.  The light in her dorm room was dim, but there was still enough to make out the face of Tara who was sleeping soundly. She did not wake the sleeping girl, instead she hastily wrote a note, turned, and left the room into the halls of one of the on campus dorms. She went over the possibilities in her head, judging by the urgency of the caller she was sure it was bad, which narrowed the choices down significantly. The two running through her head at the moment were: one Glory discovered that Dawn was the key, or two Glory had discovered Dawn was the key and then proceeded to kidnap her, neither were very heart warming.  Her thoughts continued to revolve around those two ideas; they stopped when she stepped out into the cool, dark streets of Sunnydale. That was when she felt it, a massive amount of energy, magical approaching Sunnydale at intense speed. She contemplated returning to her, but thought better of it and proceeded into the night.

 

…

 

                The desert surrounding Sunnydale had changed drastically in the last hour. What was once flat ground and been made uneven by the massive vortex of black thorns. The vortex itself looked, to the normal eye, like a regular tornado, those attuned to magic could tell just how wrong that statement was. If the massive black thorns remained at the vortex’s base, then the few traveling the road from Sunnydale could assume correctly, the thorns however did the opposite, the lashed out at the landscaped around them, changing to various lengths at varying times; as a result 4 cars in that short amount of time had been destroyed, pulverized by the dense magic of the storm. Yet despite the destruction the storm continued on moving inexorably towards its destination.

 


End file.
